I Need a Hero
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Sequel to A Hero's Savior: "Breathe. It's really simple. In, out, in, out. I know it hurts, I know, but breathe." TorturedSkinny!Steve, CaringAngry!Tony. Superhusbands. Rated M for STRONG CONTENT.
1. Chapter 1

**A Hero's Savior II:**

**I Need a Hero**

_Breathe. It's really simple. In, out, in, out._

_I know it hurts, I know, but breathe._

Blind, mute, wrists bound, naked and running as fast as he could through what he assumed was a dense forest. As many times as he'd run into trees, fallen over roots and bushes he couldn't be anywhere else. They hadn't truly let him go; they wouldn't have left him alive if they wanted him free. He had a husband to get back to, had to get somewhere he could breathe.

Now he was moving, every inch of him in agony, blindfold tight around his eyes, wire digging deeper and deeper in his skin, verging on reaching bone on his hands soon, snow threatening to freeze him soon. Each time he tripped he was weakened further, not so much running as staggering anymore. Each drag of air through his nose was sharp, constricted and horribly painful, like razorblades sliding down his throat and into his lungs with each ragged gasp.

He tripped again, ramming into the ground with already raw and bruised knees, a tired sob jumping into the duct tape layered on his lips. He forced himself back up again, whole body trembling, terrified. His heart pounded, out of rhythm, just adding to the unholy pinching in his chest. His skin blazed with fever, covered in blood, deeply bruised, bones broken here and there.

_Please, please, someone help me…Help me…_

He was so tired and weak, but God help him, he had to keep going. He had a husband to get back to, a beautiful, wonderful husband who needed him.

_Please._

Hurried footsteps heavier than his own sent his heart into another frenzy. He stumbled into a tree, hiding behind it, so scared.

_Oh God, don't take me back. Please, please, anything else, but don't take me back. Please don't take me back there, I can't...I'm not strong enough…_

He cried, gasping and knowing he needed to be quieter.

_Please…_

"STEVE!"

He gasped.

"STEVE, BABY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Tony!" The sound was muffled, weak. He broke away from the tree, out into the open, screaming again. "_TONY!" _

"Steve? Oh my god, STEVE! Stay there, baby, I see you! I'm coming, baby, I see you!" Tony watched the small, bird-like figure fall down into the snow, relieved and weak. Tony sprinted toward him, falling in front of him, touching his face immediately. "Steve, hey, honey, I'm here, it's okay," he assured, taking off his coat and wrapping it around him. He looked him over, eyes wide, smoothing his cheek when the blindfold was gone. He swallowed his own worry, his own unfathomable fear seeing him like this.

He imagined this is what Steve had looked like years ago, before he was taken from the ice, before he was given the serum. Three weeks ago when he had last seen him Steve was about a foot taller and nearly one hundred pounds heavier. But that didn't matter right now, getting this gag away from his mouth so he could kiss him and tell him it was going to be alright mattered. Getting the wire off of his wrists so he could hold him close and get him warm, that mattered. Seeing how small he was, that didn't matter. God, that was the last thing that mattered.

"There, there we go," he smiled, tears in his eyes while Steve gasped raggedly for air.

"Tony, help me," he whimpered, tears streaking down his cheeks, voice soft and barely there. "Please, please don't make me go back there. Don't make me, plehease! Look what they did to me, look at me."

"Shh, hush, hush, it's okay. You're not going back. No one's gonna take you anywhere. You're gonna come home. With me, okay? I'm here, it's alright. I've got you, alright?" He held him, carefully untwisting the wire, freeing him from them, and hugging him close. "Okay, let's go, baby. Let's go. I've got you."

He was so light, so fragile, like glass. He held him to his chest, listening to him wheeze, soft, weak puffs of air that wouldn't sustain him long. "Steve, what's wrong? Why can't you breathe?"

"A-asthma," he squeaked.

"Oh god. Okay."

He'd never moved so fast, so urgently. Fear clogged his throat, but he kissed him anyway, determined. "It's alright, we're going. We're gonna get your better, alright? It'll be okay."

Steve's eyes drooped, head lolling against Tony's chest, the lack of air only aiding his descent into unconsciousness. "T-Tony…" He wheezed.

"Shh, just rest. Just shut your eyes and rest. You're safe now, I've got you." The state of his body, his battered, fragile little body was almost too much for Tony to both comprehend and accept. How he had still been moving when he'd found him was a mystery. He smiled, just a little. Brave, beautiful, stubborn and stupid Steve. He kissed him again. "Almost there, baby. Almost there."

He felt him fall asleep in his arms. His body got just a bit heavier, limp and gasping, the grip on his shirt slackening just a bit. Tony knew he shouldn't let him, that he should make him wake up and watch him shiver and cry and try so hard to breathe when they both knew he couldn't.

He looked at him, wrapped in his coat, still trembling but somewhat peaceful, broken bones, blood and bruises aside.

He didn't know how they did this, take away his power, his height and his health all in one fell swoop. But he did know the people who had hurt him this way were the same that had been responsible for harming him. It was the same reason he knew they'd find Steve today and no sooner. Because today marked one year since Steve had walked into that room and discovered him.

"It's okay, baby," Tony whispered, getting closer to the caravan waiting for them, waiting for everyone to get back from looking for him. "We'll get through this, just like before. I'll take care of you just like you took care of me. I won't let you down, Steve, I swear."

* * *

Bruce turned green for a different reason when Tony laid Steve on the bed in front of him.

"What happened?" He breathed, realizing himself and snatching up his stethoscope and pressing it to Steve's chest, listening to the harsh, low rumbles in his chest and the awful wheezes managing to come through his throat.

"I don't know," Tony gulped, his hands trembling. "I-I don't know, I just found him out there in the snow and he…" He smoothed his hair back, his hands shaking, the adrenaline slowly starting to work his way into his body, working tears into his eyes. "He-he can't breathe, Bruce, please, he can't breathe!"

The doctor was already pressing a mask to Steve's lips, helping to prop him up once it was in place, easily maneuvering him to the upright position.

"Is he gonna be alright? Is he gonna be okay?!" Tony demanded, on the verge of hysterics, panicked, tired and so terrified. Bruce held his shoulders, urgent himself but trying to keep himself relaxed for Tony's sake.

"He'll be fine, I promise, Tony, I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to him, okay? But you've got to step out for awhile and let me help him. Just for a little bit and then you can see him again. Alright?" He said, the rattling of Steve's attempts at breathing the only sound between them.

Thor appeared seemingly from nowhere behind the billionaire, having been watching carefully from the door in case Tony would have to removed with more force than originally anticipated. He carefully touched his shoulder, turning him from Bruce and his husband, guiding him out into the hall allowing the doctor to work.

Tony fell into a chair, knees unable to support him anymore, hands trembling, a cold sweat on his face. Thor sat beside him, silent, waiting for him to speak, ready to stay stationary and silent if he didn't.

Tony's face fell into his hands, tears that had been stinging and pooling in his eyes escaping slowly, like bleeding. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to tell himself that the Asgardian's hand on his back wasn't comforting. "Fuck…" He gasped, chest twisted and gnarled, so scared.

"Captain Rogers' body may be weakened, but his spirit never will be," Thor said softly. "His strength from within will keep him going, Tony."

Tony nodded, throat clutching and swollen now, no sound coming out when he attempted to speak. Thor was silent again, waiting, he supposed. "He-he's so _small_," he rasped, forcing the words. "He's…who would do something like that? Why? How-how could someone look into his eyes and, and _torture _him like that?"

"Someone with cruelty beyond your means," he said, still quiet and gentle. "We will find who's done this, just as we did when you were injured."

Tony's eyes were closed, the image of his husband seared into his memory. Quaking on the bed, shattered, skin marked with remnants of tortures and agony. His voice rasped, spent screams and shrieks running it down to nearly nothing. His lungs were rung and weary from air attempted to draw in, throat burned for the same purpose. His eyes still begged for mercy even when Tony had looked into them, red-rimmed, puffy, purpled from his broken nose and constantly leaking tears.

Imagining what he had gone through, how many times he'd plead for Tony to rescue him, to see him again, for mercy clenched his already ragged heart. How much did they do to make him cry? What did they say to break his heart? Did they touch him as they had him that past year? Did they laugh when he shook and cried for mitigation from their bodies because he was married, because he was in love? Did they spit in his face when he told them he couldn't breathe? Did they choke off his words with iron grips around his neck when he squirmed and stammered that Tony would find them and kill them? Did they hiss that he would never come for him, that he was trapped there and force their mouths on his to silence his protests?

He shut his eyes, hearing one soft, shaking little word echoing in his ears. _"Tony…"_

Thor jumped when Tony hurtled across the room and grabbed the edge of the trash can. He threw up before Thor could ask what was wrong.

* * *

Foggy, hazed sight, too dizzy to focus on much. The light was too bright, the man grinning in front of him, waving something out of focus. His stomach flipped, already aching head flaring with pain again. He shook his head to clear it, wincing when a grip strong enough to harm him held his face.

A vial. That's what he was holding, filled with some liquid. It was sickly purple in color, bubbling sluggishly as if alive.

He tried to focus on words, finally working out that he was naked and exposed in whatever room this was, shackled to some strange chair. He was cold, he realized, maybe bruised judging by how much his joints ached.

"Do you understand?" The words came through at last. He blinked, still unable to see, room tilting and spinning. "You understand what this is going to do to you?" The words were a low, resounding echo in his ears. It hurt. He shook his head, trying to speak with a deadened tongue.

"N…no."

He was struck, the blow hitting his temple and sending his mind whirling again. He might have cried out, he wasn't sure.

"Not paying attention is very inconsiderate, Captain." The man held his face too hard again. "This is going to make you what you were. What you are without all the bells and whistles. A weak little boy. You're still that in here, aren't you?" A sharp pain resounded in his chest, burning his skin, just above his heart. He hissed, desperate to think properly. "Time the world got a look at that now, eh?"

"D, don't," he slurred, shaking his head, watching this being walk to a machine beside him. He noticed the tubes, now. The tubes hooked to needles positioned to pierce his skin; up his arms, down his legs and into his torso. "Pl-please!"

Everything vanished, whiter than the celestial light above him, blinded in agony he did nothing to deserve.

He was screaming now, his throat wouldn't hurt so much if he wasn't, tensed muscles growing smaller, heart hammering the last steady beat before going into an alternate, unhealthy rhythm. His wrists shrunk in their bindings that stayed morphed to their form. The white hot anguish that ripped through him tore his energy away, needles deep and stuck, allowing the ungodly goo to seep into him.

He writhed and jerked, both in anger and panic, shrieking. _"NOOO! STOP, PLEASE! STOP IT! TONY! TOOONYYYY!" _

But Tony didn't come. And when everything stopped, when he could breathe again and try to see again he knew he didn't want him to.

He stared down at himself. Small, frail, weak. The child he was in Brooklyn a lifetime ago with the bad heart, severe asthma and nearly nonexistent immune system.

"N-no," he whimpered, voice nearly inaudible. "Please no."

"And there it is," the man giggled gleefully. "The real Captain America. Just a bunch of toothpicks held together with skin, eh? So easily broken."

Steve took a breath, realizing himself, realizing what was happening. He looked up at him, right in the eye, jaw set. Anger sparked in his assailant's eyes. He struck him, punching hard enough that Steve saw stars popping up in his vision. "You've got some nerve, faggot," he snarled. Steve didn't waver, still looking at him, taking the next blow and not letting it phase him. If he let it there was no telling where he'd be later. "You think you're tough, huh?"

Steve swallowed, knowing what he was doing would cost him. Regardless, he smiled, just a little. "I can do this all day."

* * *

**A/N: Please review and tell me what you thought! Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I Need a Hero**

Steve woke unsteadily, instinctively flinching away from the presence and the hands coming near him. "Doh-! No, plea-!"

"Hey, hey, easy," Bruce soothed, pressing gentle hands to his shoulders to ease him back to the pillows. "Just breathe, okay? You've got to be relaxed, Steve. That asthma attack took a lot of you… And the fever, and the malnourishment and the hypothermia…" He whispered.

"Wh-wh…? Tony?" He stammered, coughing.

"Shh, he's outside, waiting for awhile. Just until I've done what I can to help you, alright? Just shut your eyes and rest."

"Can-can you f-fix me?" He wheezed, eyes hopeful and praying and Bruce understood he didn't mean his broken ribs and arm.

"I don't know," Bruce said truthfully, watching his already battered face and eyes fall. "I'm gonna try. Tony and I, we'll, we'll find a way, okay? Even if it's just for your health. I promise." He pressed a glass to his lips, tilting water down his throat to soothe him just a bit and open his airways. "Now rest. Tony'll be here when you wake up."

His breath stuttered, nodding through the hitch in his chest. He felt his eyes fall shut, drug-induced unconsciousness dragging him into the darkness. "Shh," Bruce soothed. "Just rest now. Just rest. It's alright now. You're safe."

* * *

Tony's back was pressed against the wall beside the door. Steve was somewhere in the room at his back, barely breathing, barely alive. He swallowed through the thick lump in his throat, tears sliding silently down his cheeks.

Footsteps clicked up to him, a face caught in his peripherals when they knelt beside him, acres of orange hair joining the mix. "Tony." He didn't look at her, knowing her tone, knowing what her eyes are going to say when he does. "You need to eat something," Pepper said gently, pushing something into his hand.

"I'm not hungry," he said, trying to sound stronger than he was.

"I don't care," she said, soft but firm. "You need to eat."

"Okay," he nodded, agreeing with her in hopes she'd leave him alone.

"Tony-"

"Shouldn't we be talking about keeping this from the press and as far away from the media as possible and not my fucking diet?" He croaked, unsure if he was still crying or not. "This gets spread on the front of _People_ and he'll be…he'll be so humiliated."

Pepper nodded, defeated. "I'll make sure it stays quiet."

"Thank you," he whispered. She patted his knee, knowing she couldn't comfort him like she used to. The only person that could in the other room.

Tony leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed, remembering.

* * *

"_Hey," Tony stepped out onto the balcony, staring at Steve's back. His heart was thudding, palms sweating, mouth dry in an instant. That always happened when he got close to him. He was in like, not quite love, with the Captain, he knew that. But how do you tell a man raised in a time so long ago how you feel? People were killed for that back then and…_

_And there was no way this man, this incredible man, would ever reciprocate feeling, let alone accept them. _

"_Stark," Steve said, still facing out into the city. Tony leaned against the rail, standing beside him. _

"_Everything okay?" He asked, mildly concerned, tone casual. Steve glanced at him, eyes bright in the semi-darkness, all blond and chiseled, wrapped in plaid and khaki. _

Fucking gorgeous,_ Tony thought, hiding his swoon. _

"_No," Steve finally said, giving a half-hearted dimpled grin. _Fuck..._"I'm not okay, I'm really not." Tony frowned. _

"_You wanna talk about it?" He ventured, smiling a little, causal without accusation. Steve cleared his throat, folding his lips._

"_There's, um, I've met someone." _

_In an instant, one little sentence, his heart wilted, wrung out and bruised. He hid it seamlessly, of course, nodding, pretending. _

"…_And, um," Steve continued, "I really like them. But I don't think they'd ever think of me that way. I'm confused, and nervous, and I don't know what to do." He ended quietly, blushing and fighting not to, embarrassed. _

_Tony chuckled, still composed and giving away nothing. "You've got nothing to be worried about, Captain. Your face alone is enough, trust me." He downed the rest of the drink in his hand, drumming the crystal nervously. "Any girl would be lucky to have you."_

_Steve was silent, looking at his hands. Chewing his lips again. "Stark, it…that's the thing. It's not a girl." _

God damn it! Are you fucking kidding me?! _Tony's expression faltered just a little, even more wounded than before. "I…I didn't know you were…" He offered, careful. _

"_I didn't think I was either and that…that's why I'm so confused. And why I know nothing's gonna come from it." He glanced at him, laughing ruefully. "I don't know why I told you that." Tony shrugged, his chest twisting and gnarled. Agonized. _

"_Who am I gonna tell?" He chuckled. Steve was silent still, eyes down. "Okay, well, I'm sure you can tell whoever it is, whether you're confused or not. I'm sure they'll be okay with it. They'll help you figure stuff out. People are a lot better about that now, even if they don't feel the same way. And hell, if they don't, I will," he assured, giving his shoulder a pat. Silence lapsed between them again. "So who is it? Barista? Guy at the gym? Cashier, what?" He grinned. Steve was red, blushing from neck to pinna, glancing at him. _

"_It's um…" He looked up at him, staring, waiting. Tony finally looked back, meeting his bright, frightened blue eyes._

_And then he understood. _

No way.

"_Oh," he breathed, nearly dropping the glass. His heart thudded against the reactor's cylinder, trying to shake. "Really?" _

_Steve looked away, so very red and afraid. "I told you…Look, I don't know why I feel like this. And I don't expect you to- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'll-" He turned away, ready to leave and escape this embarrassment. Tony grabbed his arm, stopping him. _

"_Don't! Don't go," he said softly, holding his gaze. "I…I um…me too," he nodded, praying to God he understood. _

_His eyes widened, disbelieving, suspended where he was, just looking at each other. _

"_Yeah?" Steve finally squeaked. Tony nodded, pulling him closer, hasty, not thinking too much but wanting. _

_Steve gasped aloud, gripping his shoulders when the third kiss of his life met his lips. Tony was gentle, one hand cupping his cheek, the other gently holding his waist. Steve immediately kissed him back, their mouths pressed so perfectly together. His hands clambered for something to hold onto, his heart pounding. He gripped his shoulders, only forging their mouths together that much tighter. Tony couldn't believe how soft he was, mouth as hot as the muscles beneath his shirt. His fingers snaked up into his thick hair, gasping softly when Steve's arms enveloped him, strong but nervous all the same. _

_He smelled clean, like soap and aftershave and his skin…his skin, god it was intoxicating. _

_This was much different from kissing Peggy. Wasn't as gentle, or soft, missing the perfume and lipstick. Tony's lips were rougher than hers, his hands much more possessive. His stubble scraped and scratched his chin and swelled his lips, the faint taste of the alcohol on his tongue that ventured just a little past his lips. He smelled like oil and some cologne that cost more than everything Steve owned and he never wanted to be away from it. The height difference between them left him ducking and Tony leaning, hanging on so tight. Even if it was just a dream because God knows it couldn't be real. _

_They broke away gasping, lips parted but not far, still holding each other. _

"_Now what?" Tony breathed, staring up at him. Steve shook his head, chest heaving. _

"_I…I don't know," he said truthfully. "I-I don't know if I'm, I'm comfortable with telling…I don't know, Tony!" _

"_Hey, hey, it's alright," he nodded, still holding his face, smiling. "We don't have to tell a living soul. We don't even have to do that again…ever. If you don't want to…ya know." His voice ended smaller, pain flashing in his eyes. _

"_No!" Steve exclaimed, holding him tighter, possessive. "No, I just got brave enough to actually tell you how I felt about you, I just kissed you and it was a hell of a lot better than the dreams I had about it-" He flushed a deep scarlet, eyes widening just a bit. Tony grinned. _

"_Yeah, me too," he nodded, easing him a little. "We, um, we could keep quiet about it, you know, until you don't…you don't want to keep quiet about it anymore." _

"_That's not fair to you," he said softly, shaking his head. _

"_No," Tony said quickly, still so thankful that Steve wasn't letting go of him. "What isn't fair is making you do something you don't want to do. So…so it's alright." _

"_I just…"_

"_It's alright," Tony nodded. "What, um…" His eyes dropped to his lips. "What do you wanna do right now while we're uh…you know, up here…alone?" Steve cleared his throat, beet red again. _

"_This. Just this, forever." They were kissing again, smiling into it, secret and wondering just how far all of this might go. Not knowing if they'd be happy._

_And certainly not knowing they'd be married at any time._

* * *

He felt sick, absolutely sick sitting beside him. The state of his face, his body, his breaths and the small, very tiny whimpers making their way out of his mouth kept his stomach on a continuous roll, and there was nothing he could do to fix it, not one thing that could make this better other than time he didn't want his husband to endure.

"Why, why is he on his side?" Tony breathed, watching Steve's chest going up and down so rapidly. Bruce looked up from the chart at him, lips pursed.

"He, um…I couldn't put him on his back. I didn't want to hurt him," he said gently. Tony continued staring at him, helpless and lost. Bruce cleared his throat. "Um, there's deep lacerations on his back, a few that…that go to the bone."

"From what?" He croaked, expression unchanged, eyes still wet and swollen. Bruce took a breath.

"A, a bullwhip. As far as I can tell. He didn't…he wouldn't…" He trailed away, watching Tony's head slowly sink back down, shaking it.

Humming of the fluorescents and the soft beeps of Steve's heart monitor were the only sounds for awhile, apart, of course, from the soft, rattled wheezes that Steve emitted every few minutes or so. Tony's hand clasped over his, thumbing his fingers, going over his wedding band over and over again, careful to avoid the cast his arm had been wrapped in.

"What else?" He said, cracking through the silence several minutes later.

"Sorry?"

"What else did they do to him, Bruce?" He growled, looking at him expectantly. "Did they do to him what they did to me or was it worse? Was it easier? _Tell me!" _Steve winced in his sleep, zapping the anger from Tony's features in an instant and leaving the broken mess that was left. He gently ran the back of his hand over his cheek, soothing him back to sleep, back to peace.

Bruce cleared his throat, looking at him steadily. "Tony, I am telling you right now, you don't want to know what they did to him. I can't tell you, I just…I just can't. I'm not gonna put you through that. If Steve wants to tell you, that's his business, but I won't."

"You're a doctor, Bruce, I'm his husband-"

"You're also my friend," he snapped, glaring now, unfazed by the false front of strength Tony was shoving in front of his heart to keep him guarded. "And when this happened to you it almost killed you. I don't want to know what the fuck you're gonna do if I tell you what happened to him. I'm not gonna have that be my fault, do you hear me? No…" He shook his head, turning from him. "No."

"Just…just answer yes or no, just one thing," Tony said softly, Bruce's hand staying on the doorknob. "Did…did they touch him? Did they touch him like they did to me?" The doctor took a breath, shutting his eyes.

"No," he managed, swallowing. "No, it was worse."

Tony's quiet, choked-off sobs were the last thing he heard before the door shut in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Need a Hero**

Steve wasn't waking up. Even with the medicine he should have by now, Tony was sure of it. Bruce said it was because he didn't want to wake up. The trauma, the memories, the pain, all of it even, was keeping him from consciousness. He stayed where he was, peaceful and mostly silent.

Tony had stopped touching him within the first few days. He'd been smoothing his hair back, barely grazing his thumb over his forehead when Steve had screamed. Just screamed and cried and absolutely wouldn't stop until Bruce forced him back to sleep with a sedative in his IV.

"It's alright," Bruce had assured, patting Tony's shoulder. "He just got scared, Tony. Something triggered-"

"Won't happen again," Tony breathed, sitting back in his chair. He hadn't touched him since, hadn't had the strength to try.

He talked instead. He muttered, barely audible enough to hear himself, for hours on end. He told him stories about stupid shit he'd done when he was in college, hell, stuff he'd done last week. He talked about their dates, their fights, his fears, his wants. He spent an entire day telling him every single thing he loved about him. He talked about cars, about his father and what he'd been told about Steve, girls he'd dated, men he'd thought about dating, anything he could think of so long as they were alone and well out of earshot.

Getting him to eat more than a mouthful at a time was impossible, keeping alcohol from him improbable and sleep out of the question. Times between Steve getting wheeled away for tests and a few surgeries was utter agony to endure, anguish to watch.

Everyone tried to speak to him, to get him to understand and listen that it was alright to go home and sleep. They'd keep an eye on him, they'd call him if anything happened. They tried to tell him he needed to eat because god knew he was of no use to Steve dead.

It didn't work. Nothing did.

And Steve slept.

* * *

"…Just get some new clothes, take a shower and come back. Please," Bruce appealed, glancing at Steve sound asleep in the cot behind him.

"I can't. I need to be here when he wakes up," Tony muttered, tone flat, void of almost everything.

"It's been ten days, Tony. Half an hour won't kill you. Please," he begged, almost desperate.

He stayed silent, stony-faced and unmoving. "If I do," he said, finally loud enough for human ears, voice hoarse as if he'd been screaming, "will you all leave me the fuck alone?"

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, not sure whether to laugh or yell. "Yeah, we'll leave you the fuck alone. But you have to leave first."

Reluctantly, Tony stood, staring at his husband, the constant ache in his chest giving a particularly nasty throb. "Has…" He cleared his throat, still not used to speaking. "Has anybody found anything about…about who hurt him?" Bruce shook his head.

"No, but we're looking. Everyone's doing everything they can to find who hurt him," he smiled a little, in spite of everything. "Never seen Phil so angry before."

Tony nodded, reaching to touch him out of pure reflex and retracting immediately, remembering. "If…if anything-"

"I know," Bruce nodded, patting his shoulder. "I'll call you. Just go get some air."

* * *

_Get up. Now. You have to get up right now. Come on. Hurry up or they'll hit you. _

_They're gonna hit me harder if I get up. _

_But you have to._

He shook, every fiber of his being telling him to stay where he was, every single muscle in his arms shrieking in protest as he carefully pushed himself back up to his knees, coughing wetly before standing again.

The room laughed, the assailant in front of him -the same man who was responsible for taking his powers away- shaking his head.

"You know, I'm not sure if this is stupidity or bravery, Steven," he smirked, chuckling softly. Steve swayed a little, blood on his face and seeping down his back, staring at the whip in his hands. "You know I'll stop when you stay down, right?"

"N-not gonna happen," he breathed. Laughter again. He chewed his lip, chest heaving, naked in front of this room of strangers that only laughed when he was in pain. He stayed where he was, never breaking eye contact with him, not giving in for a second. He screamed again when the leather snapped over his shoulder. He staggered to his knees, coughing softly.

"You're gonna break, Steven, it's only a matter of time. Weak as you are I'd start thinking about choosing your battles," he warned, striking him again, grinning when he cried out.

"I'm not weak!" He bellowed, gritting his teeth, coughing, hot tears in his eyes.

"Oh?"

A hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against a wall. He fought, the tears sliding down his cheeks now in his effort to breathe. "Then what do you call this, hm?" He clawed feebly at his hands, feet off the ground. "I call _this_ weak, Steven. I call what I've made you, who you really are, I call that weak. Look at you! One hundred pounds of disease and _nothing_. Your special sauce is gone and so is any worth you had to anyone. Hubby included."

Steve shook his head, coughing hard when his neck was released. He pressed himself back against the wall, trembling. His wounds throbbed, throat raw, looking up at him with a set jaw. "Th-that's not true," he managed, chest shaking.

_Fucking asthma._

"You don't think so?" He condescended, holding his face, chuckling when he attempted to throw him off. "You don't think Tony Stark would want anything to do with you like this? All scrawny, gangly and ugly? Hm? He's a billionaire, kid. He could have anyone he wants, anyone on earth. So why would he settle for something like you?"

"Tony l-loves-"

"You'd like to think so," he laughed. "Steven, you love him so much more than he loves you. So dependent on him. And I know why." The man's hand traveled down his chest to his hip, the other fisting his hair to keep his head still. Steve grunted, squirming fruitlessly. The man brought his lips too close to his mouth and he winced. "You're attached to him because he's the one and only person that's ever had stomached through touching you," he breathed. "You have the same mentality as a sixteen year-old girl after she's been fucked for the first time. But Tony…" He grimaced, mocking him. "Tony's a bit of a slut, isn't he?"

"Stop it," he hissed, voice hard but frightened.

"He doesn't need you, he doesn't want you," he breathed, tracing his lips.

"Stop, please," he demanded, voice wavering.

"Here's what I'm going to do," he said slowly. "I'm going to torture you until all you can do is beg. Then I'm going to show you just how much sex it takes to make your heart as numb as Tony's. I'll show you how fucking means absolutely nothing."

"He married-"

"When you were pretty," he assured, patting his cheek. "And now you're not."

"Stop, stop it, now, please-" He broke off into a shriek, laughter echoing through his ears, the knife twisting in his shoulder forcing his knees to buckle and forcing him to the floor.

"Just a matter of time."

* * *

He splashed water over his face, rinsing the rest of the foam off his face from shaving, taking a few deep breaths. He'd packed a few of his things away in a bag, managed to get an entire granola bar down and some water without puking.

He'd never been so scared in his life, not ever. The quiet around him didn't help. It only made the echoes of Steve's voice, wavering and terrified when he'd found him, his screams, his sobbing that much louder in his head. At least the sterile smell of the hospital was out of his nose for a minute.

He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes.

"Okay," he whispered. "I, um, I don't do this. I don't think I've ever done this before, but…I don't know." He cleared his throat, brow creased. "I don't believe in You. But Steve does. And I believe in him, so... So please, please, if You're up there, if You've ever needed a reason to intervene and help someone, it's him. He's…he's _good_." He felt tears that never seemed to run out well in his eyes. "He's brave, and strong, and so kind…He's everything You could want in a human being. So please, for his sake," his voice cracked. "Just help him. Please."

The tears slid down his cheeks, which he hastily wiped away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"He-hello?" He breathed, mildly panicked, nearly dropping it.

"Tony, he's awake."


	4. Chapter 4

**I Need a Hero**

Tony drove too fast to get there, tore through doors and shoved people aside, doing everything but sprinting to finally get to Bruce, panicked and winded but his eyes were filled with hope. "Where is he? Is he alright? Did he ask for me, what?" He asked frantically, gripping his shoulders in his mildly panicked state.

"Tony, relax, calm down," Bruce said, holding his forearms and gently lowered them back to his sides. "He's in the same place you left him, just like he was before," he assured.

"Has he said anything? Did he ask for me?" He repeated, more urgent this time. Bruce folded his lips, the rest of the hall still bustling with people, Thor off to the side leaning against the wall with Clint frowning at Natasha's iPad, reading Fury's debriefing of what they knew of Steve's situation. Natasha had her head leaning against his shoulder, absolutely exhausted. Tony glanced over them, suddenly incredibly grateful but without the words to say so. He turned his attention back to Bruce.

"Tony, he hasn't said anything," he explained nervously. "He, he understands what we're telling him. If we ask him to sit up he will, if we ask him to stand up he does but he won't say a word."

"Has anyone tried-?"

"Of course we did. He won't respond. He keeps his head down and looks at his hand like we aren't even there," he explained. "I tried, we all did. Even Pepper tried." Tony shook his head, staring at the floor, thinking.

"Is, is there something wrong? Is his head alright or-?"

"There isn't anything physically wrong from what I saw in his CT scan we took a few days ago," he sighed, at a loss and incredibly stressed. "Honestly, that's the last thing I have on my mind. I think getting him back to normal and figure out how the hell someone reversed the damn serum is more pressing." He was snappish, jaw flexing. He took a breath. He always looked so much older when he was stressed, the nearly premature gray in his hair standing out as well as the fatigue in his eyes through his glasses. "I'm betting he'll talk to you," he said, calmed again. "Considering." Tony nodded, taking a breath and trying to cope with all this. His arms itched to hold him, longing to see him.

"Can I see him now?" He asked, swallowing. Bruce licked his lips..

"Just go slow. He's a little jumpy," he acknowledged. Tony turned, understanding in his expression and tried not to sprint to Steve's room.

* * *

"_We're gonna get caught!" Steve hissed, smiling at him. Tony grinned, lips swollen, hair mussed from Steve's fingers. _

"_No we're not," he assured, kissing his neck again. "Fury's got Natasha busy in Jersey, Barton's shooting his little Robin Hood heart out, Bruce is in the middle of a breakthrough and we won't see him until something blows up and Thor's on some weird alien conference call with his dad and Loki. We're fine." _

"_We're in a supply room…canoodling," Steve said, hushed. Tony barked a laugh, giggling into his chest. _

"_Yes we are, and you love sneaking around just as much as I do," he whispered, lips brushing his as he spoke, pressing him closer to the counter. Steve nodded, letting lust win out over reasoning and kissed him again, holding tight to his waist. Tony groaned a little, careful to be quiet so Steve didn't panic again. They were lost in their world. Tony was engulfed in his arms, his own wrists locked around his neck and tugging at his hair. He tasted incredible, the smell of his skin and aftershave filling his mind. His body was buzzing with heat and desire to stay this close to him. _

_Steve's shirt was rucked up so he could get to his stomach and he wasted no time taking advantage of the situation. He carefully put his hands on his stomach, feeling how hard and tight his body was underneath this soft skin. He wondered if the rest of him was really this perfect. _

_He kissed at his neck, barely sucking his skin to listen to him gasp, so unused to the treatment and Tony couldn't get enough of it. His blushing, his fumbling and accelerated heart rate. The way he wet his lips before he talked to him sometimes and those precious dimples that came out when he gave that sweet embarrassed smile when Tony told him unbearably gorgeous he was; he was absolutely addicted to him. _

_Steve moaned softly and he smirked against his mouth, smug. _

"_You like getting me flustered way too much," Steve gasped. He giggled. _

"_Maybe…" He hinted. Steve grabbed his waist, kissing him hard and chuckling when Tony yelped. "Oh, come on, that's not even f-" _

_The door opened and both men froze._

_Thor flicked on the light, humming happily, pausing when he saw them and smiled. "Afternoon," he said brightly, moving to the other side of the counter, reaching up into a cabinet. _

_The couple looked at each other, Tony's eyes wide, Steve's terrified, but neither could move. "Uh, um, hi, Thor," Tony stammered. The Asgardian shot them another smile, digging through various water bottle sizes to locate the one he had in mind. "H-how'd the stuff go with your dad?" _

"_Father is still insistent on keeping Loki confined rather than speaking to him. I'm unsure whether I will be successful in my endeavors at this juncture, but I won't give up. Despite his claims Loki is still my brother and deserves to be listened to. If only he'd speak to me…" He shook his head, taking down the bottle he'd been looking for. He shook his head with a sad smile. Tony and Steve exchanged another glance. _

"_Well, uh, good luck with that," Tony said with a reassuring smile, still not moving. _

_Thor cocked his head, as if finally realizing something. "What _are _you two doing in here, anyway?" _

"_Sparring," Tony said immediately. Steve nodded vigorously, still blushing furiously. "I was uh, showing Captain Rogers what martial arts is," he explained. _

"_Ah," Thor said, having no idea himself what the exercise was. "I'd also like to learn some of your Midguardian fighting styles if you have the time." _

"_Sure, I'll let you know when it opens up," he nodded, still smiling._

"_Best of luck, Captain," Thor smiled, stepping out of the supplies closet whistling. _

_The two finally relaxed, unwinding a little. Steve smacked his arm. _

"_Ow!" _

"_Not gonna get caught, huh?" He hissed. Tony shrugged. _

"_I can't be right all the time, can I?" He offered, grinning crookedly. He continued to look at him, glaring. Tony wilted. "Oh come on, I'm cute, right?" He asked, nuzzling his nose. Steve sighed, smiling again. _

"_Come here."_

* * *

He was sitting on the bed, not looking up when another presence entered the space. He stared down at his hands, shaking a little in his thin gown. He was still bruised and purpled and stitched, on his side against the pillows to avoid harming the injuries on his back further.

Tony's heart was beating too fast, elated that Steve's eyes were open, even if he hadn't been speaking. It was enough to outweigh his guilt for not being here when he woke like he'd sworn he would be.

He gingerly sat down on the bed near his feet, watching his face for some kind of recognition. He didn't find any. "Steve?" Nothing. He licked his lips, trying again. "Steve, baby? It's Tony," he said softly. He might as well have just stalked to nothing. "Can you hear me?" He reached out to him, the tension in the air so thick he was suffocating in it. Steve whimpered, wincing away from his hand. Tony retracted it immediately, watching him with watery eyes. He couldn't even touch him. "Okay," he forced, nodding. "It's okay, I won't touch you."

He sat there for a few more minutes, listening to Steve breathe with his ragged lungs. "It's okay," he assured, still looking at him. "You don't have to talk to me, baby. You don't have to talk to anyone until you want to. But…but I want you to know that you're safe. We're trying to find out who did this. Everyone's working around the clock some way to help. We're gonna fix this, alright?" Still nothing. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. Bruce thought I should get out of here for a minute and…and you woke up without me. Haven't hardly moved…" He laughed ruefully at his hands. "My luck, though, huh?" His eyes misted again, throat swelling at the silence.

He stayed where he was for hours, silence resounding through the room save for the faint beeping of Steve's heart monitor, waiting. He wasn't sure what he was waiting _for_, but Steve couldn't be silent for the rest of his life, could he? But Steve remained in the same catatonic state, staring blankly at nothing, expression and eyes void of any and all emotion. Tony sighed, moving to stand, obviously unwanted or unnoticed. "Right, well, I'm gonna go try and eat something or choke down the god-awful coffee in the cafeteria, if you-"

He froze.

Steve had reached out, putting his hand on top of Tony's eyes shining as the sun filtered through the blinds. Tony smiled a little, turning his hand over to hold his. "You don't want me to go?" He shook his head a little. Tony was grinning. He knew he shouldn't be, Steve was still hurt and not speaking but…but it was something. "Okay," he nodded, sitting back down, scooting a little closer so he didn't have to stretch. "I'll stay. I won't leave you."

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long, guys. Real life and all that haha. Have a good St. Patrick's Day and stay safe!


	5. Chapter 5

**I Need a Hero**

Bruce officially said that Steve couldn't go home until he was talking again. Everyone was too worried and out of sorts to try and keep an eye on his health –mental or otherwise- in the tower. Tony would be the only person to stay near Steve 24/7 but when he himself was almost always near collapse due to food or sleep deprivation, so keeping the two of them here would be beneficial for everyone involved.

Steve ate without complaint so long as the tray was set down a few feet away on the table first.

He wouldn't eat anything in any form of a liquid. No applesauce, pudding or mashed potatoes. He wouldn't drink anything that wasn't in a sealed bottle or carton either.

He never spoke a word or made a sound unless someone scared him. Like loud noises. A cart fell over in the hall once and he'd screamed, covering his hears and huddling over himself for hours before he finally relaxed.

The touch he'd given to Tony's hand a few days before was the only time he'd come near him. He wouldn't allow touch, he wouldn't even look Tony in the eye to let him know what he was feeling, or if he was still in there.

"Steve," he'd said quietly one night when neither of them could sleep. "Baby, look at me. Please."

Remarkably, Steve slowly lifted his head and his eyes, bloodshot but bright, looking at him. Tony smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Steve opened his mouth, as if to speak, when the door opened; a nurse coming to change his bandages. He clammed back up immediately, ignoring any pleas from his husband for the remainder of the night.

It took another three days before he tried again.

"Steve, baby," he said from his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, watching his face for signs of recognition. "What can I do to help you? Do you need me to hold you? Do you need to scream? Do you need to cry or hit something or write something dow- Or draw! Draw; I can go get you a pen and paper right now if that's what you need." Nothing. "Baby, what can I do?" Finally he turned, looking at him sadly, lips trembling. "Steve?"

"I…" He croaked, voice hoarse from lack of use. "I'm scared…to let you…hold me."

"Why?" Tony urged, slowly getting out of the chair and sitting beside him on the bed, hanging on every word. "I won't hurt you, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"N-no," he shook his head, tears in his eyes now. "You-you'll remember what it was like. Before. And now I'm…" He looked down at himself, closing his eyes.

Tony gasped a little, as if he'd been punched. "Steve," he reached for him again, wincing when he leaned away. "It doesn't matter to me what you look like. I'm in love with _you_. You could've gotten turned into a purple-spotted woman and I'd still love you just as much. I love your heart, not your body, okay? Somewhere you've gotta know that. Now, if you want me to hold you, then I'm gonna hold you, god damn it."

"I'm still scared," he whispered. Tony scooted closer to him, pained.

"Of me?"

"Of being touched," he stammered, looking up at him. God, his eyes. They were so full of undeserved pain and age as well as naïve youth. Tony's chest ached.

"I won't hurt you," he swore, holding his arms open for Steve to come to him. "I swear to god, Steve, I won't do a thing you don't want me to. You can trust me." He knew that. He knew Tony would hold him and keep him safe. But _hands_ and _heat_ that wasn't his would hurt, right? "It's okay," his voice was gentle and so soft. He wouldn't…

Tony sighed when Steve rested in his arms, bandaged and frail. "Shh…" He slowly wrapped his arms around his body, loose but comforting so he didn't feel trapped. "I got you."

"Tony," he whimpered, tears coming.

"I'm here."

The soldier closed his eyes, crying silently. He breathed in the familiar scent of his husband. The cologne, the oil, the aftershave. He was home. He should've done this days ago. He hadn't felt safe until right this minute. "Don't let go."

"I won't, baby. I won't." He smoothed his hair, feeling how fine and thin it was compared to before. His skin was still soft, but much like paper or skin on an infant, looking as if the smallest touch might break it. But his eyes, those big, blue eyes holding all of those painful things but also his heart. His beautiful, beautiful heart. He was still Steve. Hell, more than anything he was more Steve now than he was when he met him. But that low, crisp voice and even the way he curled his hand around Tony's back as he held him was exactly the same. His love, his Steve. His husband.

He was awed. This brave, sweet man was the same that enlisted five times in the U.S. Army when he weighed ninety eight pounds and a list of medical problems a mile long. He went into the procedure not knowing if he would come out alive because it might help people. He wanted in the war to fight bullies, not cause carnage. He was determined because of who he was, his nature. Strong, brave, lucky, beautiful Steve. _"And he's mine,_" He thought. "You're gonna be okay, Steve. You can get through this. You can get through anything. You're gonna be alright."

"I'm sorry," he whimpered.

"Sorry? For what, baby?" He asked, carefully trying to lift his chin. He fought him, keeping his eyes down.

"I wasn't strong enough. I was weak l-like this. I couldn't stop them," he gulped. "Th-they knew I was married and they still didn't care. I fought, I screamed, but," he shook his head, so ashamed. "They just, kept putting things inside me. I-in my mouth and-!" He sobbed openly, collapsing so Tony had to support him completely. "They tied me up. I tried so hard to fight, I did. I'm so sorry." Tony couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even move. "They hurt me and they _liked_ it when I hurt. How-how could anyone get…_excited_ from hurting somebody? I don't understand, Tony, I don't understand!" He cried. Tony swallowed, shutting his eyes so he didn't see the tears in them.

"They wanted to hurt you, honey, and they knew it would. God, I'm so sorry, Steve, I'm so fucking sorry they did that to you."

"_No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Not Steve. Not him, anyone but him. God, please, no." _

"Steve, that was rape. They violated you, and that's not okay. You said no, that makes it not okay. There's some…situations where certain things can be okay, but you have to want those things not-"

"Stop, please," Steve trembled. Tony clacked his jaw shut, hating himself all the more. "Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, it's not your fault."

"You f-felt the same way I do," he said, looking at him and _fuck _it hurt. Tony folded his lips, taking a moment before answering.

"I forgive you, baby," he whispered, hugging him closer.

"You were the only person who'd ever touched me like that," he whimpered.

"I know, I know, Steve, it's okay. You're still mine, and I'm still yours, okay?" He offered a forced smile, holding his face. "Still all mine, baby." Steve cried into his chest, the light of the arc reactor comforting.

"Can you help make it go away?" He asked, trying to steady his voice.

"I can try," he nodded.

"Anything you can do right now?" He wondered, too vulnerable. Tony rested his cheek on top of his head, nodding.

"You wanna tell me how you and Bucky became friends?"

He kept asking about memories and places and things he knew would make him smile. He didn't stop until he was almost asleep.

"Don't go," Steve begged, words heavy with sleep. Tony kissed his hair.

"Never."


	6. Chapter 6

**I Need A Hero**

Bruce sighed, the blood sample under the microscope causing a constant migraine for the chemist. "Son of a bitch…" He grumbled, sitting back from it and scribbling in the notebook beside it.

"Dr. Banner?" He turned, frowning a little. "Perhaps I could be of some service," Loki continued. "This is, after all, of other-worldly encounter, is it not?"

"It has to be," he blurted, rather desperate for help. "There isn't any kind of human technology that could possibly make this happen to Captain Rogers. There just…there isn't. If there was Tony would have it." He pushed back from the desk, turning to look up at him, taking off his glasses and tossing them onto the paper, exasperated.

"Perhaps some fresh eyes would help?" Loki offered, gesturing to the microscope, hands behind his back, voice quiet. He was still greatly reserved around the lot of them, calling them by their titles unless told otherwise and reverting immediately back to them upon seeing them again. It wasn't necessarily a subservient attitude, the Asgardian's presence alone commanded some attention and respect due. Whether that was because of his regal heritage or his alien persona that had the effect on humans, Bruce wasn't sure. Either way he scooted aside and held his arm out toward the machine, gesturing for Loki to have the go ahead.

The frost giant came over, bending and peering through the device. "You all are still rather primitive, you know," he remarked. Bruce nodded.

"We're workin' on it. That look like anything you've ever seen before?" He asked.

"It's a vaccine," he said, standing upright again. Bruce frowned.

"For what?"

"Anything that wasn't in Captain Rogers' system when he was born. This vaccine was designed not only to suppress any trace of the serum that aided his strengths, but any other vaccine he has been given since then," he explained.

"But it didn't kill the cells, it just latched onto them," Bruce frowned.

"It _can't_ destroy them," Loki assured. "Alien technology or not it still isn't strong enough to completely rid the captain's body of them. They're simply dormant. Sleeping, if you will."

"Do you know where it came from?" Bruce asked, practically hanging on every word Loki said. The prince shook his head.

"No," he sighed. "Unless I get a closer look at the pathogen itself I can't tell where its origin is. At this point it could be anywhere in the nine realms. Other than Earth and Asgard, of course." He took a step back away from it.

"I'll inform my brother and see if he'll have any luck speaking to any planetary leaders that he can," he assured. He's much better with public relations than I am," he chuckled softly. Bruce offered a smile back.

"Hadn't noticed," he teased. Loki smiled back.

"I'll inform you what he finds out," he nodded, turning away from him.

"Thank you, Loki," Bruce said, still smiling.

"My pleasure, Dr. Banner," he said with a small bow. "Do get some rest. You look awful." He turned and left without another word, intent on speaking with Thor immediately, despite the hour. It wasn't as if anyone else arounf here was sleeping either.

00

Tony didn't sleep like Steve had. He couldn't. He had to be there and alert with every nightmare Steve had to soothe him back to a peaceful sleep or wake him completely and ease him back to unconsciousness. Despite which was which, he was always there when Steve opened his eyes, the first thing he saw and felt after whatever horrors he was reliving.

"I'm weak, I'm weak," he'd moaned, whimpering and sobbing against Tony's chest, still too asleep to really realize what he was saying or doing. "I said it, please, let me go Stop, stop, I said it. I did what you asked!"

"Steve, hey, wake up, buddy. Wake up, I'm here. I got you. It's okay," Tony assured, rubbing quick circles into the middle of his back. "I know you're scared, I know how scary it is, it's okay. I'm here. Just wake up, babe, I got you. right here with you, shh…"

Steve finally met his eyes, his own swollen and so terrified. "Tony, Tony, tell them to stop, tell them I said it and they don't have to do that anymore!"

"Shh, shh, Steve, they can't hurt you ever again. They can't touch you, not with me here." He tightened his hold around him, squeezing him as close as he could. His frail little body trembled against him, and Tony couldn't tell if it was because of the nightmare or that he was cold.

The blond blinked a few times, sniffling, Tony's shirt clenched in his fingers.

"I got you, okay?"

"B-but who's got you?" He breathed. Tony swallowed, brow creased.

"Right now that doesn't matter. You're still here with me, you're still keeping me going, you're still keeping me strong, Steve. I'm fine. It's you that I'm worried about," he whispered. "And you need to know right now that you, are, not, weak. You're anything _but_ weak, Steve. You tried to go fight Nazis how many times when you were this size?"

"I needed to help," he gulped.

"You didn't let your size stop you then, and you're not going to let it now," he assured. "You aren't weak, baby."

"I want to be tall again. I want to be able to help right, I want to be able to hold you right and fight like I know I can. I don't want to be like this forever," he nodded, swallowing. Tony kissed his forehead.

"I know. I know. But whatever happens, Steve, no matter _what_, I will still love you. I don't care how big or little you are," he nodded.

"I love you too," he whimpered. "I don't want you to worry about me anymore. I don't want you to be afraid for me."

"We're gonna figure this out," he assured, smiling gently at him. "We're gonna do this together and you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Can…can we go home yet?" He whispered. "I'm tired of being in the hospital."

"I'll check with Bruce later. Are you okay? Pain-wise, I mean," he asked, smoothing fingers through Steve's hair.

"I'm okay," he shrugged, tears standing in his eyes. "I just wanna go home. I want to be in our room, with my clothes away from the things that remind me of what happened."

"I'll get you home," Tony nodded. "You gonna talk to more people than just me? Bruce is worried about that. Hell, everyone's worried about you."

He licked his lips. "If…if there's only a couple people at a time. I'll try."

Tony nodded, holding him just a little tighter. God, what must have happened to make him so afraid of crowds, afraid to open his mouth and speak…

"What'd they do to you, babe?" He whispered, not expecting an answer. Steve didn't try to give one. He rested his head against Tony's chest, hand over the slightly warm light of the reactor.

"Lots of things I'm not ready to talk about," he muttered.

"Whenever you're ready, you know where I am," Tony assured. "For better or worse."

"This is definitely my worst," he croaked.

"Well, you've seen me at mine," he reminded. "New Years, two years ago? All that Jaeger I had and that damn hangover? Never thrown up so much in my life." He looked down at him, hoping he was smiling. Steve rolled his eyes.

"How many times did you say you were gonna hack up your reactor?" He smiled. Tony beamed.

"At least a dozen."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm gonna go back to sleep now. The morphine," he mumbled. Tony nodded.

"Right here when you wake up." Steve was asleep again before this sentence was through.

00

"Thor?"

The god turned, facing his brother, the New York skyline behind him, wind whipping his hair around a bit. "Loki. Is there something wrong? Is Captain Rogers alright?"

"He's fine," Loki assured, "but Dr. Banner and I need your help. What's more, so does Rogers."

Thor frowned a little. "What can I do?"

"We need you to speak with the ambassadors to the other planets in the realm. The technology that forced Rogers to be this way is not Asgardian, and it's far too advanced to be of Earth. Dr. Banner says it doesn't match anything of Stark's either, and it's nothing of ours," he explained, handing Steve's blood work to his brother, who looked at it with a crease in his brow.

"Why do you need me to speak to them, exactly?" He wondered.

"To give them a chance to confess to what they've done before Dr. Banner gets a closer look at the pathogen and I can identify it appropriately," he nodded. Thor looked up at him.

"Alright," he agreed, folding his arms, slightly nervous. "I wish you could speak to them. You were always better at intergalactic affairs than I was." Loki chuckled.

"You'll do perfectly, Thor. I can be there to encourage you, if you wish. Just…remember to show some tact. And if they insult you or Asgard for that matter, keep a cool head, be polite and carry on. Fighting won't help Captain Rogers," he advised. Thor nodded again, turning back out to face the horizon again. Loki joined him, leaning against the concrete, glancing at him.

"Brother, I am thankful for your encouragement, and I must ask you to forgive me for what I am about to ask," he looked at him, the look in his brother's eyes telling him he already knew his question. "You have nothing to do with this, right?"

Loki bowed his head, injured but understanding. "No, Thor. I have no wish to harm Rogers or Stark for that matter. I certainly wouldn't have used the tactics used to torture Rogers in the first place." The elder nodded, scratching his chin, guilty. "Don't," Loki assured, facing him head-on. "It's alright, Thor. You have every right to question me. Widow and Barton have had their turns interrogating me already."

Thor put a hand on his brother's shoulder, looking away again. "I only want to be sure, brother. I do not wish to be fooled again. And you are one for mischief."

"Not to this caliber. Particularly when one of your friends has been grievously injured for nothing. All I wish to do is help, Thor."

"I know," he nodded, giving his shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand. "I hope he's alright. I know Stark will take care of him, but…I wonder how much one can repair someone who's been so damaged."

"If any human could get through this, it's Captain Steven Rogers," Loki assured.

"You think so?"

"Anyone that would marry Tony Stark and still have his sanity has to have strength beyond the Hulk's," he chuckled. Thor smiled back.

"Perhaps you're right." He hoped.


End file.
